


Praise

by Mimsys



Series: On a Pedestal [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: And good friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt!Steve, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Kink, Praise Kink, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Whump, clint plays a minor role but is BA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimsys/pseuds/Mimsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is tired of being defined by his new body; there are only so many compliments he can endure on something that "came out of a bottle".</p><p>In which Steve Rogers has a non-sexual praise kink that has nothing to do with his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kehinki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kehinki/gifts).



> **I don't own Steve Rogers, any other Marvel character, or the MCU, much as I would like to.**
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> Kehinki mentioned wanting this on tumblr so I made it happen.

Natasha is the first Avenger to notice it, which shouldn’t be a surprise, to see the way Steve tensed up when Tony called him ‘Captain Muscles’ over the comms during their latest mission and the way he relaxed, melting under the praise, when Clint clapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him on catching a civilian who had fallen from a window when the ground had shook under the feet of an Asgardian creature. She doesn’t mention it, not for a few days, but she stares at Steve when he walks past, eyes narrowed and calculating, and begins to plan; a little over a week later, she tries it herself. Steve had claimed the dining room table for his art, papers scattered across it and held down by the weight of charcoal sticks and pencils; she approached him silently, leaning over his shoulder to see the sketch he was working on, and then turned her head to ghost soft praise against his ear: “Excellent work, Rogers.” A soft whine may have slid past Steve’s lips at that, although he’d deny it should anyone ask, but Natasha was gone by the time he looked back.

Tony, on the other hand, never learns; he’s too used to teasing, too used to being right, and not accustomed to admitting when he’s wrong. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone that Tony is the first Avenger to make Steve _need_ praise. It’s been a hard mission, one that had dragged on for almost a full day and left them all exhausted and sore; Steve, who hadn’t been able to stop to eat regardless of the fact that his enhanced metabolism required him to do so more often than the others, was silent and aching as they were all hurried into the back of SHIELD cars – Steve with Natasha and Tony, the others piled into another- eyes half closed and breath ragged. “You must be used to this.” The mechanic remarked, “Being out of breath and sore and… well, I’ve been reading your files since I could read; you were always Howard’s favourite bedtime story, after all. You used to be so weak; serum fixed you right up, of course.” There’s derision in his voice that hasn’t been present since they first met, condescending tones brought on by the aches in his weary muscles and the crumbled pieces of his armour.

“I was _never_ broken.” Steve returned sharply, struggling to open his eyes enough to glare daggers at Tony, surprised to see Natasha doing so already. “And I didn’t need fixing.” But he can’t ignore the creeping doubt, the painful reminder that he had been weak and fragile and the army hadn’t wanted him, not until he was injected with the Serum and exposed to Vita rays, not until they’d improved him. His new body shouldn’t change who he was; he was a soldier, and hero, before then; as far as Steve was considered, he was still the same scrawny kid who had jumped on the dummy grenade, still the same scrawny recruit who used his brains to take down the flag that others had tried, and failed, to climb up to. The reminder that others thought that all invalid because he was now physically fit and strong, as if that alone made him any better than the soldiers he’d fought alongside when it was truly his morals – not that he thought he was better, of course, merely that some of those men had been bullies, and fighting for their country didn’t change that.

“Yeah, well, Howard seemed to disagree.” Comes Tony’s response, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the super soldier, “And we all know what a genius he was.”

“Don’t use your father as a weapon against me, Tony, unless you wish for me to do the same to you.” And then, hands trembling slightly from exhaustion and whole body protesting the idea, he untangled himself from his seatbelt, pushed open the door of the moving car, and hit the road running (stumbling occasionally, yes, but moving fast enough that his faltering steps could be excused).

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to rise to her feet as well, glaring at Tony as the driver screeched to a stop. “Next time,” she snarled, “fly home.” And then she’s joined Steve out on the road, fingertips flying over the keyboard of her phone as she catches up. The text that goes to the Avengers – including Coulson and Fury, Tony notes with a wince – reads as follows: _All – we’re fine; Stark set him off; I’ll take care of it; Cap needs food when we’re back_

And that’s why Tony’s held up in debriefing by an irate Coulson for over an hour when he gets back to the Tower- _his_ tower, thank you very much. JARVIS informs him of the others’ whereabouts when he asks, although the man is almost certain that even his AI is being a bit snippy with him, and he’s not surprised to see the Avengers all piled on the couch together in front of the large TV, or that they’re glaring at him. What he is, however, surprised about is the fact that they all seem to be focused entirely on Steve and the TV is, in fact, off and silent. Steve is curled up in the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around his legs and chin tucked against his knees, eyes squeezed shut tightly. Tony knows that pose, had adopted it enough times when he was trying to block out the words of his father, and that sends a jolt of guilt stabbing through him.

“We would have followed you then, too.” Natasha was murmuring, tone pitched low and soothing, from where she knelt on the floor in front of Steve, “You’re more than muscles and serum; you’re what you stand for, and who you would die to protect.” She shot a sharp glance at Tony before settling her gaze on Clint, who stood behind the broken Captain with one hand on each of his shoulders. “You’re the man who told Bucky to go ahead, the man who died to protect us, and that will always be more than enough.” The blond is relaxing slowly, cautiously, but it’s enough for Natasha to give him an encouraging grin and for Clint to squeeze his shoulders softly, enough for them both to let out a sigh of relief – and for Tony to do so as well, although Steve had yet to acknowledge him.

“You’re strong, Captain, and that has nothing to do with muscles, enhanced or otherwise.” It’s Clint who speaks now, moving one hand from Steve’s shoulder to card it through the other’s hair, rubbing his thumb lightly against their leader’s scalp, earning himself an almost purring sigh of contentment. Steve’s eyes flutter open, blinking almost drowsily up at the archer. “We’ve got you.”

It takes a while for Steve to accept that, but he does after a time- after Bucky, who still saw him in that wrong body, after he visited Peggy and saw his picture - his old picture, creased and soft from being folded and carried around – tucked away in the drawer by her bed, framed and cared for but too upsetting to have beside her while he had been gone, after Sam had teased him and joked with him and treated him like Steve Rogers and not Captain America, after Tony finally admitted that maybe Howard wasn’t so far off about Steve after all, that maybe he really was a hero, even before the Serum – it took all that, but Steve believed them. And if sometimes he needs reminding, needs arms to wrap around him and for praise to be rasped against his skin until it’s flushed with pleasure at the reassurances and he’s all but melted into the arms that pull him close – well if that’s so, no one blames him for it, and no one minds.


End file.
